CollegeHumor: Jase Contributionshttp://www.collegehumor.com/user/3440529
Funny Videos, Funny Pictures, Funny Links!/post/3591127http://www.collegehumor.com/post/3591127/the-freshman-prophecy
Wed, 24 Sep 2008 05:54:39 -0400/post/3591127http://www.collegehumor.com/post/3591127/the-freshman-prophecy
Wed, 31 Dec 1969 19:00:00 -0500<p><br />
I hate Freshmen.<br />
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The term originates off the coast of Jamaica where a voodoo witch doctor constructed the first freshman out of clay and blood of foreign exchange students.<div class="media"><div class="embed center"><img src="http://0.media.collegehumor.cvcdn.com/5/1/collegehumor.437229a5a7762dae40bfe691eaa298f3.jpg" width="150" height="219" /></div></div> The word itself is a conjunction of two commonly used English words, Fresh and man. Freshman translates from Jamaican to the English equivalent, New Man. Like a zombie rising from the grave, a Freshman, or New Man is a blank slate that I personally believe has had any interesting or unique personality traits wiped away by the ancient voodoo witch doctor&#039;s curse. After the first freshman, the infectious curse spread quickly to 18 year olds and high school students across the country. </p><p>With their minds erased, any and all media input from TV to the internet easily fills the vacuous cavity in their skull with garbage and leaves them to be raving, unstoppable, god-forsaken, freshman. It&#039;s like <span class="caps">AIDS</span> for the brain. Some even say we have reason to believe that Samuel L. Jackson is in cahoots with the Witch Doctor, which also explains why he is in every movie ever made&#133; To corrupt the minds of the freshmen. <br />
</p><p>I have taken the liberty of classifying these &quot;Freshmen&quot; into 6major categories some with their own subcategories listed below: The Poser, The New-Age Hippie and the Emo we will be discussing today.<br />
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</p><p><b><u>The Poser</u></b>: The poser is one who could strike from anywhere, posing as anything or anyone. Making it one of the most dangerous and shocking freshmen out there. I&#039;ve heard that some can pose so well they can actually pose as shadows and strike from the darkness. Most often times the cursed freshman take the form of a faux longboard skateboarder, snowboarder, reggae artist, revolutionary, intellectual, gangster or worse.<br />
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</p><p><b>How to Eliminate: </b>The easiest way to discover if they are a freshman poser is to make careful observations. they will often break &quot;character&quot; as you will see them fall off their skateboards, totally suck at guitar, read at a 7th grade level, and have opinions on world matters that only go so deep as to say something like &quot;genocide is bad.&quot; To combat these heinous threats to humanity we must reveal their charade. <div class="media"><div class="embed center"><img src="http://1.media.collegehumor.cvcdn.com/e/8/collegehumor.ced55cce0ac6113717ccb3b85c898f16.jpg" width="150" height="112" /></div></div> <br />
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Once revealed the poser freshman will rapidly disintegrate to a fine carbon/nitrogen dust and drift away in the wind. Avoid contact with the dust to ensure no risk of infection.<div class="media"><div class="embed center"><img src="http://0.media.collegehumor.cvcdn.com/0/3/collegehumor.86385ee0020bc4c32b7a6b636f804d09.jpg" width="150" height="140" /></div></div><br />
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<b><u>The New-Age Hippie:</u></b> Certainly the most frequent occurrence of dangerous freshman, they are easily identified by riding bikes instead of driving, smoking various herbs, and criticizing what they call conformists. They always wear the right cuff of their pant leg rolled up and wear shirts saying &quot;share the road.&quot; They are attracted to heavy exhaust so make sure to stay on foot especially if you&#039;re in an area with a known New-Age hippie infection. (also avoid bicycles from wal-mart)The new-age hippie has several sub varieties here is one:<br />
<div class="media"><div class="embed center"><img src="http://1.media.collegehumor.cvcdn.com/d/7/collegehumor.d6418edd7bbcb1a252aa7fa7a1e92792.jpg" width="150" height="112" /></div></div><br />
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</p><p><b>The Emo: </b>Emo freshmen may be the worst of the curse. The curse has somehow shrunken their pants and clothes restricting the blood flow to muscles and causing muscular atrophy making these horrid beasts appear ultra pathetic and weak. One way to identify them is by the easily identifiable patricidal hate in their eyes. Although it&#039;d difficult to get a good look because the Emo freshmen tend to keep their hair over their entire face. A ploy designed to fool the non freshmans. But don&#039;t be tricked, their whining is like brain daggers wielded by tiny OJ simpsons, infiltrating your ears. They will attack with extreme prejudice and the cold, cold hate in their eyes proves the curse is very real and not a joke.<br />
<div class="media"><div class="embed center"><img src="http://2.media.collegehumor.cvcdn.com/0/1/collegehumor.601e9360a5fe5bcfc10a95c190537cae.jpg" width="150" height="187" /></div></div><br />
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</p><p><b>How to Eliminate: </b>Keep a sturdy walking stick, crowbar or other linear object handy to throw into the bicycle wheels of the New-Age Hippie. Generally, because they don&#039;t want to mess up their dreadlocks or pony-tails they won&#039;t wear a helmet and be killed upon impact due to the lack of fat as padding from their vegan diets. As for Emos its much simpler. A good ridiculing statement will usually throw them into panic at which point they tend to eliminate themselves.<br />
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I have to move on for now. They are approaching this alley, I will try to get more information on the Freshmen known as The Dudes and the others next time. for now keep a close eye out for these clues, and remember. <br />
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<span class="caps">STAY</span> <span class="caps">ALERT</span>, <span class="caps">STAY</span> <span class="caps">ALIVE</span>.<br />
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</p>nonadultcomedy
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/post/3454456http://www.collegehumor.com/post/3454456/tribute-to-speeding-buddies
Wed, 11 Jun 2008 02:22:53 -0400/post/3454456http://www.collegehumor.com/post/3454456/tribute-to-speeding-buddies
Wed, 31 Dec 1969 19:00:00 -0500<br />
<p> Speeding in a car down the highway is probably the most fun you could ever have. I love doing it. I speed in neighborhoods, schools, parking lots and hospital ambulance driveways&#133; basically, wherever I can. I love showing off the power of my 1997 Ford Taurus. (I&#039;m pretty sure that means 1,997 horsepower!)<br />
<div class="media"><div class="embed left"><img src="http://2.media.collegehumor.cvcdn.com/6/c/collegehumor.c8721216150daa8ac1bbc08ccc845206.jpg" width="150" height="112" /></div></div><br />
So anyway, I&#039;m doing my usual commute of about 20 miles on I-5 in Washington, scooting along at 10-15 over the speed limit. I&#039;m feeling good. I crack my passenger window ever so slightly just to get a tiny listen of that sweet, sweet whiffing noise as I pass the idiot middle laners. <br />
</p><p><br />
</p><p> I pass this one car, a sweet 90&#039;s Toyota Tercel, white with custom rust marks and scratches. I fail to get a good look at the driver as I go by, and I feel sad about that, because I usually like to get a glimpse of people&#039;s shame . But I snap out of it and continue flying along. I casually pick my rearview mirror up from the passenger seat and lift it up to eye level so I can see out the back window. (I prefer a manual rearview mirror. <span class="caps">OLD</span> <span class="caps">SCHOOL</span>!) There is that Tercel again, inching its way back up to my rear bumper. I&#039;m thinking, &quot;IT&#039;S ON!&quot; <br />
</p><p> But no, it was clearly not on. The Tercel was keeping its distance, and it was now going the exact same speed as me. <!-- readmore --></p><p> Now I&#039;m confused, but also intrigued. I&#039;m slowed down slightly by an <span class="caps">SUV</span> in the fast lane. He&#039;s ignoring my rapid honks and head light flashes, which of course mean &quot;get out of the way you damn old person/asian/canadian/woman&quot;. The <span class="caps">SUV</span> finally rolls into the middle lane. I slam the gas hard to show them that I am upset, and roar past them at 80 mph. In the meantime, the Tercel had gone all the way into the far right lane in a daring maneuver and had passed the <span class="caps">SUV</span> on the right. Now it&#039;s just us with a half mile of road ahead of us before more traffic. Neck and neck, I finally get a good look at the driver. Male, professional speeder, not slowing anybody else down, knows the tricks fo the trade. A real man&#039;s man. Like me. I look at him and he looks at me. And it was at that moment that we knew we were&#133; Speeding Buddies.</p><p> The next ten minutes of the drive were amazing. We cut and wove through traffic like surgeons performing an appendectomy. Forcing others aside, team honking, synchronized middle fingers and more. I can&#039;t express how great it was having someone watching my back for cops while I do what I love to do. But soon enough, that became a problem. <br />
</p><p> After passing one particularly slow pack of cars, my new friend in the Tercel sped ahead, hitting somewhere in the 90 <span class="caps">MPH</span> range. Amused, but not impressed, I begin to accelerate as well. In my peripheral vision, I see white and black getting on the on ramp to the highway, just about to come into view of my Speeding Buddy. I immediately drop to 60mph, but my speeding buddy still doesn&#039;t see the cop. I flash my lights and hazards, do both turn signals multiple times and even point with my finger over the roof of my car at the cop, but to no avail. Sure enough: &quot;<span class="caps">WHOOP</span> <span class="caps">WHOOP</span>.&quot; Blue and red lights flood the highway overpass, and the cop pulls him over. <br />
</p><p> After what seems like forever, I get to the scene where the cop caught up to my speeding buddy. With his window down, I can finally get a good look at the guy&#039;s face. I slow down to 45 mph and pass with an expression of deepest respect and concern. He&#039;s been through this a million times, right? He knows the drill. He&#039;ll say he had his music on too loud and the Elton John pumped him up and he lost track of his speed. Or that his wife had a baby. Or that he is going to the hospital to have something removed from his anus. (All of these excuses work equally well.) But no&#151; he shouts to me as I pass, &quot;<span class="caps">WOOO</span> <span class="caps">SPEEDING</span> <span class="caps">BUDDIES</span>!&quot; He just blew his cover; he admitted guilt. He&#039;s doomed. <br />
</p><p>Another lost speeder.<br />
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These words had such an effect on me, I felt compelled to write this article. I had once considered myself an unmatchable solo-speeder. I have since learned the folly of such selfish thoughts. So strong was the bond between us, I would have paid <span class="caps">HALF</span> of that guy&#039;s ticket. Ok, not half, maybe like two fifths. One fifth. But that&#039;s not the point. Now, whenever I go driving, I pick up as many speeding buddies as I can. I had assembled a speeding posse once, composed of complete strangers. It was amazing. You can immediately tell who is a worthwhile speeding buddy, because they won&#039;t get too far ahead or behind, and they use the signals. I encourage you other speeders out there in the interweb to seek this bond with others. Don&#039;t be competitive; work as a team and your speeding experience will grow more enjoyable by threefold.<br />
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Thank you, and good night.</p>nonadultcomedy
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